11th February from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Gloomy and cloudy but somehow springlike. A little warmer, perhaps. Buds on the daffodils and a gentler breeze and a restful sea. A robin and a wren are pecking at something on the path. It is unusual to see these two birds close to each other and the robin doesn’t like it. We know they are agressive little creatures and will drive off anything impinging on its territory but the little wren is unconcerned. Jenny is feisty in her own way and will not be driven off no matter how cross the thuggish robin gets. It is also interesting to compare these birds. They both tend to fly quickly across the footpath and can be gone before you hardly register them but now we can see how much smaller the wren is. It is rounder with a cocked up tail. It moves quicker than the robin and is altogether perkier. And, if you catch them out of the corner of your eye, as you often will, the wren is a darker, choclatey brown which makes the robin appear almost grey in comparison. And, despite it’s tiny size, the wrens song appears even louder than the robin. Much quicker like a jangle of keys although still melodic.
From 11th February 2022
Phenology is the study of patterns in the changing seasons. It used to consist of the sort of observations that Country parsons like Gilbert White would record in a daily diary. When a particular tree would come into leaf and so on. Over hundreds of years these anecdotal observations have contributed to the knowledge of annual variations and thus climate change. We know that spring is happening a month earlier than it did in previous centuries from records of blossom breaking. My little observations are in no way as rigorous or scientific as these. I am more interested in the way people react to the changing seasons. Today the sea glitters and the sun shines warmly from a nearly cloudless sky although the air is very cold. For me, the real sign that spring is on its way is a workman's hi-vis jacket, hung high up on a scaffolding pole, the orange glowing luminously against the blue sky. #Bournemouth #westcliffgreen #GilbertWhite #springisonitsway
From 11th February 2017
The night is as thin and sharp as a stiletto blade. Despite the thin, sharp breeze, a thin mist lies along the cliff top. A thin cloud veils the moon which still manages to give a thin sharp light, enough for me to find my away among the pines. Across the bay The Elise shows a single, sharp point of light whilst, unseen above, the Flight to Lisbon traces its thin path through the darkness.
From 11th February 2016
As the Barfleur crawls in across the bay out of the darkness all lights blazing I can see young women in flapper dresses draped across the banquettes in the salon unconscious after the party. Young men, equally comatose dressed in tuxedos, their shiny patent dancing pumps scuffed from over exertion in the Charleston. The rails are festooned with gaily coloured streamers, damp now from the brisk dawn air and sea spray while the decks are littered with champagne corks that roll to and fro in the slight swell. The reality is tables of truckers; the heavy jowled French dipping their croissants in vases of black coffee while the red-faced British guys are tucking into full English ("can I have extra grease with that?") before setting off into the crisp frosty dawn.
